


Climb On

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blindfolds, Coming Untouched, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dom Misha, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Polyamory, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sub Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 07:20:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10329125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Misha takes Jensen to an indoor rock climbing gym to teach him about trust, control, and working as a team. Jensen has some revelations on the climb, and Misha puts them to work in the bedroom.OR, in which the title has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with rock climbing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: My daughter is obsessed with rock climbing. We spend an enormous amount of time at our local climbing gym, and that sowed the seeds for this story.
> 
> Beyond that, I have no excuse. I also have no idea if Jensen or Misha have ever been rock climbing. And I understand that some of you may have no point of reference for how climbing walls are structured, so I tried my very best to "show, don't tell" and not, like, write you a book on rock climbing. Hopefully there's enough info in the "climbing" part of the story to explain what's happening.
> 
> And if not, there's still sex at the end. :D Ummm... written fairly quickly and not beta'd and I'm sorry, but I'm not ashamed. :)

“Are you kidding me? You’re kidding me.”

He was not, in fact, kidding him. “Nope.”

“You’ve never been rock climbing? Never. Not even in a gym?”

Jensen threw his hands up in the air, even though he and Misha were having this conversation over the phone and other man couldn’t see his incredulous gesturing. “I’m a boy from the plains of Texas. Forgive me for never having the urge to go looking for trouble with a mountain.”

“You’ve literally traveled the world. Fuck’s sake, Jensen, we film in a city that has  _ actual mountains _ .”

“And I’ve been reminded to keep my pretty face and perfect nails every step of the way. One scrape and I’m doomed.”

“No-- no no no. Not anymore. You can’t pull that bullshit on me, Jensen, I’ve seen our makeup department cover a Grade-A hickey like it was a minor zit. No. You can scrape your face and not lose your job; hell, Jackles, you could straight-up hit your face on a boulder, get a kickass black eye, and they’d just roll their eyes and glob it over with concealer.”

“So what you’re saying is, there’s really no way out of this.”

“You could just say no, and that would be the end of it. But I think you’ll have fun, and maybe learn something, too.”

“Fine, fine, all right. Saturday afternoon?”

“I’ll pick you up at 1:00.”

***

Misha leaned on the excuse that “you’ve never done this before” and “I’m more than happy to help you get rigged up” but It’s possible that he was a lot more hands-on than he needed to be while securing Jensen’s harness. Hell, it’s possible he didn’t need to secure Jensen’s harness  _ at all _ ; that Jensen, a full-grown man, could probably manage it by verbal instruction alone… but where was the fun in  _ that _ ?

With a gratuitous fondle of Jensen's crotch from behind, and a flattening out of his palms into the crease between his groin and thigh so as to make it clear the first touch was intentional, he pulled at the harness to assure it was secure. “Not too tight?”

“You keep doing that and I’m gonna be scaling the wall with a pretty obvious boner.”

Misha hummed and removed his hands. “Wouldn’t want that,” he murmured, placing a kiss on the left side of Jensen’s neck and nibbling at the skin, “You might run it into the wall and sprain your dick.”

“Ugh.”

“Right? I need that in good working order.”

“Misha…”

“OK!” Misha shouted louder than necessary as he bounded away. He clapped his hands once, rubbed his palms together, and checked to make sure his chalk bag was secured on his own harness. Then he led Jensen across the cushioned floor of his favorite climbing gym. He headed for a newly constructed wall and started handling the ropes. “So. The rules of climbing are simple: Above all, the climber and the belayer work as a team. Each of us has our respective jobs - you climb, and I push you, keeping you on course and offering direction as needed, but above all, my job is to keep you safe. Sound familiar?”

“I’m beginning to see why you wanted to bring me here.”

Misha’s mouth slid up into a wolfish grin. “Good. Then we’re on the same page. Just relax, and trust that I’ll keep tension in your ropes and that I won’t let you fall, and we’ll both have fun. But if you get to feeling uneasy, you say the word and I’ll bring you down.” He let a pause fall between them for a few breaths before stepping up behind Jensen to rest careful fingers at his partner’s waist. “Take your time. Face the wall, take in the big picture, and plan your route. And when you’re ready, you ask permission.”

“I ask permission? Like...”

“Not exactly like that. You ask me for permission to climb because if you start and I’m not paying attention, there will be slack in your ropes and you’re likely to fall and get hurt. Your request to climb brings me into the frame of mind to be ready to support you properly. So when you’re ready, you say, ‘Belay on?’ and I’ll confirm -  _ belay on _ . That means the ropes are secure. Then you touch the wall and before you take a single step, you ask again: ‘Climb?’ Wait for my word. I’ll say  _ climb on _ , and then? Then you go.”

“So it  _ is _ exactly like that.”

Misha shrugged and raised his eyebrows before stepping right up into Jensen’s personal space. “Point is,” he said earnestly, eyebrows still raised, “we’re a team. It’ll be a little scary but a lot of fun as long as we both do our jobs. I need you to trust me.”

“I do.” In the hubbub of the gym, Jensen’s reply was quiet, but Misha was close enough to hear, and to see the earnesty in Jensen’s eyes.

“Mmhmmm.” He nudged his nose into his partner’s. “I know.” He smiled, warm and open, until Jensen smiled back, and then he nodded and rested their foreheads together. “Breathe.” Jensen drew a deep breath, and let it out. “Again.” The second breath came even more easily. “OK. Let’s look at the wall together.” He stepped back and waited until they stood shoulder-to-shoulder before pointing at the man-made boulders, tracing an invisible route with his right pointer finger. “See the 5.8 route?”

“The one marked with yellow tags?”

“Exactly. That’s a vertical climb using the smaller holds on the wall, see that?” He waited while Jensen looked up. Watched from the side until he saw his partner nod. “That’s your route. Start there, at the bottom left, with your right foot on that blue triangle, and your left hand reaching up to that red hold.”

“And if I fall?”

“I won’t let you fall.”

Jensen’s shoulders heaved with a slow breath, and then he let it out in an audible rush and nodded. “OK then.”

“What do you say?”

“Belay on?”

Misha watched him step forward to touch the wall. He took the ropes in his hands, left arm stretched out, right arm pulled back, ready to take the slack. “Belay on.”

“Here goes nothin’ then. Climb?”

“Climb on. Go get ‘em, Cowboy.”

***

Jensen was about 10 feet off the ground when he felt the first tinge of doubt. He looked right and left, but there was no yellow tab to reach to with either hand.

He looked right and left again, with more panic. Still nothing.

“Mish?”

There was a slight tug at his waist as Misha tightened the ropes a notch. “You have to go horizontal.”

“There’s nothing there!”

“Your feet, Jen. You have to move your feet. Your left foot first - look down. See it?”

He looked. “Sure enough.”

“Move your left foot there, and then your right foot where your left foot is right now.”

“What about my hands?”

“Let go with your right.”

“Mish…” The entire conversation was a series of shouts - Misha’s voice drifting up to Jensen’s ears from below, and Jensen shouting down over his shoulder or between his elbow and knee.

“Tension?”

“No, it’s good, I just…”

“Jensen?”

“Yeah?”

“You can do it.”

In contrast to the rest of their conversation, Misha’s voice when he spoke Jensen’s name and delivered the affirmation was level, calm, somehow meeting Jensen’s ears without a raise in his partner’s voice. It didn’t end in an exclamation point - it wasn’t a shout of encouragement. Misha wasn’t being a cheerleader. 

He was stating a fact.

Jensen heaved a breath and moved: Left foot, right foot. Another inhale and slow exhale for confidence as he was stretched across the wall, so tight against the rock that he could feel it scrape his belly, and then he let go with his right hand as he reached up and over with the left.

One moment of free-hang by three limbs, and then he pushed with his legs in tandem to boost up to a handhold on his right and secure his body once again by four points.

He felt the rope slide back to taut with every move of his body.

It wasn’t until he’d gone another ten feet or so, and he turned his head to look back down at Misha, that he realized Misha hadn’t once let his attention slip. He’d been moving and working with Jensen every step of the way.

“You see those last holds?”

Jensen smiled at the rock face, and tilted his head back to let his voice echo off the ceiling. “I see ‘em.”

“Go when you’re ready. I got you.”

“I know, Mish.” He sighed and lifted his chin. Closed his eyes. And then, quiet enough to only be speaking to himself, “I know.”

He heaved and moved, up, to the left, over, to the right, and then two more moves of his feet, and he was slapping the top of the wall.

He laughed. Then laughed louder.

And then realized nothing was happening.

“Misha?” No response. “Hey, Mish? I’m ready to come down now. Mish?”

“This is a really great view.”

“Oh, you’re-- you asshole.”

“You wouldn’t believe how tight your ass looks in a harness, J.”

“Let me down!”

Misha’s warm laughter floated up to Jensen’s ears. “Now, now. I know you have better manners than that.”

“Let me down.” He paused. Rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Please?”

Mercifully, the rope began to slide, and Jensen felt his feet hit the floor about 20 seconds later. “Dick.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

He really didn’t.

A warm body embraced him, and Jensen melted into Misha’s frame as the older man pressed a kiss into his hair. “You did so well.”

“Thanks.”

“So… have any… grand revelations while you were up there?”

Jensen looked back at the wall. “Yeah. I think I did. But can we climb for a little while longer anyway?”

“Anything you want, J.” Jensen watched as Misha reached into his saddlebag and chalked his hands, like his hands did everything else -- with an amount of grace and confidence they had no business possessing. “Same route?”

“One more time, yeah.”

“OK then.”

“Belay on?”

“Belay on.”

“Climb?”

“Climb on.” 

***

Misha let his eyes rake over Jensen’s body. 

He loved this body - worshiped this body.

He’d watched it move and stretch and flex and strain for two hours, shifting gloriously left and right, muscles pulling Jensen up stone walls.

This body was strong, and beautiful, and capable of many things. And for all of that, this body, this man, made a choice to lay aside his other options and give himself up to Misha.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Good.” He leaned over Jensen, prone but relaxed in the center of his king bed, and ran a flat palm over the ripples of his chest. Watched in wonder as Jensen hissed and shivered at the unexpected touch. “Blindfold’s not too tight?” He murmured as the roving hand reached Jensen’s navel and rested calmly on the softness of his belly.

“No Sir.”

“You’re beautiful, Jensen. So beautiful for me.” Misha knew he sounded awed, and he left the compliment bubble out, soft and free-flowing, as he climbed onto the bed for the first time and sat astride Jensen’s hips. “Relaxed. That’s good.”

“Mmmm…”

Jensen was fully nude, but Misha, though barefoot and shirtless, still wore the pair of faded jeans he’d thrown on after a shower following their exercise at the climbing gym. He did nothing to hide the hardness of his groin under the denim - in fact, once settled, he rolled his hips to be sure Jensen felt it. “You made me proud today.”

“Thank you Sir.”

“You’re welcome, but take the compliment, much as I know you loathe to. You’re amazingly strong, Jensen, and beautiful and capable of more than you give yourself credit for.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips to Jensen’s - gently at first, and then deeper, ending in pure ownership of the kiss, tongue and nuzzling nose and all. “And now I’m asking you to relax, and put your trust in me in a different way.”

“I know.”

Misha frowned slightly at the bob of Jensen’s Adam’s apple over a hard swallow. “You’re still having second thoughts.”

“No, I, uh. Just.”

“Remember what we talked about. Just like on the climb, I’m here, every step of the way. And I’ll push you, but in the end, you’re the one with the final say. What’s your safeword?”

Jensen relaxed minutely, and his tongue darted out quickly to lick his lips. He cleared his throat and responded. “Keep going.”

Misha huffed a bemused laugh before pinching Jensen’s right nipple between his left thumb and forefinger. “I appreciate that you want to keep this lighthearted, but I need the real answer.”

“It’s, ah. Dallas.”

“Very good.” Another kiss, more possessive than the first, and Misha flattened his body over Jensen’s. He took both of Jensen’s wrists in one hand and restrained them above his head, up against the headboard. “Hmmmm… good memories, huh?”

“Anchors me, if I have to use it.”

“I know. God, you were amazing that night. Still remember…” He kissed a path down Jensen’s chin, followed the line of his neck as his head tilted back, and continued down the sternum to his navel, “How incredible you felt that first time.” With a glance up over the plane of Jensen’s abdomen to verify his partner had started to bliss out, Misha dipped his tongue into the belly button and swirled slightly.

“Ffff...fuck…”

“Your wife was there. Remember how she held your head in her lap while I sucked your dick?” His lips wrapped around the head of Jensen’s cock and gave a hard suck that ended with a pop. “Wasn’t the first time for that, of course. But… when when I fucked you… You were both so amazing that night.” He idly sucked again at the head of Jensen’s dick, not really in any hurry to progress beyond a casual blowjob. “Now, of course… now you’re… well, you’re mine, aren’t you?”

“Misha…”

“Tsk, tsk.” He swatted with a little force at Jensen’s shaft. “Who am I?”

“Ss-- Sir.”

“Better.” Misha nodded and went back to considering Jensen’s straining erection. “So. Putting to the test what you learned today… the blindfold. It’s not so bad, is it?”

“Long as you keep talkin’ and touchin’ me, no. It ain’t.”

“Your hands are next. I won’t use restraints because I know your skin’s rubbed a little raw from the climb, but you keep them where I left them, up above your head. Got it?”

“Yes Sir.”

“And now I’m going to lube up my fingers and prep you. This isn’t anything we haven’t done before, J. Only thing new here is the power dynamic, and that’s no different than it was in the gym today. You just have to let go, and trust me.”

“I do.”

“I know.” Misha lubed three fingers but only probed one at Jensen’s entrance. He watched and reveled in the heaving chest; let himself bathe in the tiny pleasured whimpers. “One more thing.”

“Hmmmm?”

“You don’t cum until I say.”

“Ff--” Misha slipped the finger into his first knuckle, and Jensen was momentarily distracted as he drew in a breath at the intrusion. “Figured as much, Sir.”

“Don’t get sassy, now.” He pushed the finger in further and started a slow, gentle rhythm, stretching and circling to the sides. All the while, his voice stayed low and calm.

“Normally you-- shit-- you like it when I’m sassy.”

“Mmmhmmm. This is different. I want you focused and relaxed, and I want you following my lead. I’m exerting my dominance here, Jensen, but I’m not going to be harsh unless you force my hand. That’s not what this is about.” He added a second finger alongside the first and started a gentle scissoring. He watched Jensen’s face - watched his teeth girt and his jaw clench along with what was probably an unconscious movement of his hips. When the tension eased in the jaw, Misha went in for the sweet spot and let Jensen’s whines and cries wash over him. “That’s it, J. That’s it. Let me hear you.”

There weren’t any real words anymore - just a lot of moaning and mumbling as Misha took Jensen’s hardness back into his mouth, minutely more aggressive than before. But he kept glancing up, and kept a close eye on Jensen’s hands, the way they folded in and clenched into fists. He hummed when Jensen bucked, and he slipped in the third finger, earning him a string of hisses and curses.

He took one last, long suck before pulling off and away completely to take in Jensen’s body once more.

It was significantly more flushed now, and a thin sheen of sweat had formed on his pecs and sternum. “So fucking beautiful.”

“I…”

“I know. You’re just  _ aching _ , aren’t you?”

“ _ Please _ , Misha…”

“Breathe.” He fixed his eyes on Jensen’s upper body and watched for a deep inhale, then an exhale. “Again.” Only once his instructions were followed did he continue. “I’ve seen your body do some amazing things today, and now I want to test something else. I want to know…” He ran the pointer finger of his right hand up the length of Jensen’s dick. “I want to know if you can cum just from being fucked.”

“Jesus Christ, Mish, what the fuck, I’m not some science experiment you can just--”

“Shhh…” He swiped his thumb very lightly over the head, and Jensen whined in response. “You have your safeword if you need it, but I don’t think you do. And I think it’ll be really… really good… if you try. You just gotta climb the wall. But I’ll give you the tools to do it. I’ll give you the support, and I won’t let you fall. OK?”

A long moment passed where Misha was fairly certain that Jensen was going to bail out. But then, on a rushed exhale, he said, “Yes Sir,” and Misha smiled brightly, shaking his head in wonder at the incredible man splayed out beneath him.

“I’m going to get up now - just to remove my clothes and get myself ready. OK?”

“OK.”

Misha nodded and shifted off the bed, quickly shucked his pants and underwear, and then knelt between Jensen’s legs. He lifted the other man’s knees to his shoulders, leaned up to kiss him fully on the mouth, and then pushed inside. “Slow burn,” he murmured.

“‘S not so bad. M’ muscles are sore, though.”

“I’ll massage them, after.”

“You’re amazing.”

“I’m just doing my job.” He kept pressing forward, and when he was fully sheathed, he captured Jensen’s mouth with his and didn’t let go. 

Past the point of breathlessness, he still didn’t relinquish the kiss, but he did pull out slowly, letting his partner feel every inch, before pressing back in and aiming for Jensen’s sweet spot. He repeated the motion, and again, and again, only drawing in air when he absolutely had to, and keeping up a steady slide of his body against Jensen’s,  _ into  _ Jensen’s, all the while.

Closed his eyes, to pay more attention, to feel.

Jensen’s hips bucked; he squirmed; he tried to increase their speed. Misha held him and fucked him slowly into oblivion, until the room was filled with panting and whining and Jensen couldn’t maintain the kiss anymore.

Then, and only then, Misha sat back, adjusted their position to angle deeper, and sped up his thrusts into the pliant body beneath him.

“Don’t hold back, J. Let me hear you.”

“Mish-- Mish--”

“You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Please…”

“Remember when you were almost to the top? When you looked over, and you knew which way to go, and you put your trust in me and reached for those last holds so you could top out?” 

A whimper and a whine were the only response. 

“You can see those last holds now. I know you can. Just let yourself go. Cum for me.”

“Iiiiiii…”

“Jensen. You can do this. You can.”

He knew how it sounded; knew the tone of his delivery was perfect. It was the same tone he’d used earlier, at Jensen’s first hesitation, to get him to continue his climb. It had worked then.

And it worked now just as well.

Jensen arched and exploded on a roar -- there was no other way to describe the sound that escaped him in that moment. It was a roar, like a lion, triumphant and primal and instinctive and  _ perfect _ . 

Misha let it push him over the edge, too.

He bathed in the afterglow for only a moment before shifting gears: he pulled out, removed the blindfold, grabbed a strategically placed washrag from Jensen’s night stand, and cleaned his partner’s groin and abdomen thoroughly before attending to himself in the same manner. Then he tossed the rag aside and molded himself up to Jensen’s side.

Jensen was putty - he’d probably been in subspace, not that the other man would recognize it, but Misha did - and the emergence was slow and cautious. Misha just waited; skimmed fingertips over his partner’s glistening chest; placed feather-light kisses on freckled skin. Let himself get lost in a different kind of afterglow.

A soft sigh from Jensen pulled him back to earth, and he propped up on his elbow to look down into his favorite green pools. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Content, groggy. Perfect.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“How was that?”

Jensen chuckled softly and shook his head. He was still flat on his back, but now his hands rested contently on his own belly, and his fingers traced idle designs on his own skin. “How long have you been planning this? The climb, the scene, all of it.”

“Hmmm…” Now it was Misha’s turn to chuckle and look away, abashed. He watched Jensen’s fingers dance for a beat. “Since Jacksonville.”

“Wh-- that was two months ago!”

He shrugged. “Well, you said no. And I respected that, I did. But then I talked to Danneel, and she said you’d probably be up for it if I could make you understand the truth of it; if I could get through to you that I wasn’t asking you to let me push you around in bed or use you as a toy or any of that. She said you were probably just stuck on the stigma of what power dynamics are, and if I could break through that, you’d probably be game. So… I…”

“So you went about it in your Misha way.”

“I went about it creatively. In my Misha way,” he affirmed with a shrug. “You mad?”

“What, that you spent two months poking tiny holes in my misconceptions and reservations and then took me to a fucking climbing gym with the ulterior motive of using it to teach me about power dynamics?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Not mad.”

“Good.”

“Could be even more not mad if you’d take care of my legs like you promised.”

Misha went in for a kiss on a huff of laughter. “Anything for you, J.” He pecked one more cursory kiss to Jensen’s lips before rolling away in search of the bottle of massage lotion he knew was… somewhere. But he looked back over his shoulder one last time, so he could catch Jensen unawares - catch him staring, catch him blissful, catch him happy. Their eyes met, and Misha mirrored the smile on his partner’s face. “Anything for you.”


End file.
